


Hush, Hush

by laconicisms



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Humiliation, M/M, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-23
Updated: 2010-12-23
Packaged: 2017-10-14 02:39:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/144439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laconicisms/pseuds/laconicisms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"hush" - noun (Mining & Quarrying): a gush of water, esp when artificially produced.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hush, Hush

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the first round of [](http://community.livejournal.com/kink_las/profile)[**kink_las**](http://community.livejournal.com/kink_las/) .

Ianto likes coffee. You can't really make good coffee if you don't like it yourself, and Ianto makes excellent coffee. He more than likes it usually.

Today he thinks he might grow to hate it.

"Jack."

"Ianto."

Ianto closes his eyes, clenches his teeth. He tries to concentrate on the feel of the back of the wooden chair digging into his shoulder blades and the rope around his wrists, but his attention keeps getting drawn back to--

" _Jack._ " Ianto's eyes snap open as he feels Jack's foot digging into his bladder. "Stop it."

Jack grins down at him from his position on the top of the desk and pushes harder. "Nope. This is too much fun."

"It won't be any fun when I'm wetting my trousers." The sweat that's been beading on Ianto's forehead for the past ten minutes starts running down his temples. He bites his lip, tasting the saltiness, but Jack leans forward and frees it with his thumb. The pressure on his bladder increases by another fifty billion kilopascal, and, shit, he can't - _can't_ \- stop himself if this goes on much longer. Should not have had that fourth cup.

"Jack."

"Shhhh," Jack breathes, thumb stroking lightly over Ianto's lip. And that sound is not soothing. It's anything _but_. "I'll enjoy it."

"You arse," Ianto gasps because of course Jack would. Because he just fucking loved messing up Ianto's appearance - running a hand through his hair, pulling at his tie, bruising his lips, coming all over his face - and it couldn't get any messier than making a mess in his trousers.

"Shhhh," Jack says again. "Just let go."

Ianto shakes his head, cheek rubbing against Jack's palm. "No," he groans.

"Think of how good it will feel," Jack murmurs, punctuating each word with a twist of his foot, burrowing even deeper. "What a relief it will be."

"Please," Ianto says, "Jack." But it's too late now; he couldn't even make it out of the door if Jack let him go right this moment. Ianto hesitates for an endless moment, eyes locking onto Jack's - glaring, pleading; he doesn't know - and then lets go. Warmth spreads spreads across his lap and with it the heat on his face that makes his skin prickle. "Oh God." He tilts his head, looking down and to the side. There are tears building in his eyes and, shit, if that doesn't make this worse. Ianto tries to slow his breathing, tries not to bloody sob like a child and startles when he feels Jack's hands cup his face. He turns Ianto's head to face him and kisses his forehead.

"Shhh," Jack says and this time it's more soothing, and yet it isn't enough. Ianto's breath hitches again and his nose starts to run on top of it. He's a mess.

He says it out loud.

"But a beautiful mess." Jack grins at him like the proud father of a boy who has just learned to use the toilet. That thought shouldn't make him feel better, Ianto thinks. It shouldn't but it does somehow.

"Prick," Ianto says. There's a smile tugging at his lip, though.


End file.
